


Will you join the Resistance? (Who will be strong and stand with me?)

by Jainas-in-English (Jainas)



Series: Star Wars Fusions [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, First Meetings, Gen, Pre-Slash, Resistance, Rise of the First Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 20:18:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11858925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jainas/pseuds/Jainas-in-English
Summary: The bar is crowded and loud, and Grantaire is nursing his third Cardassian Sunrise of the evening while watching Joly and Bossuet dance with Musichetta when the man comes in. Human, about their age, maybe a bit younger, curly blond hair colored blue by the pulsing light, beautiful… and there is something fleeting in his face, in his way of standing, that makes Grantaire sit up and take notice, watch him as he slows down -he was running- and looks around himself with a tense expression, then starts to elbow his way across the dancefloor at a brisk pace, head low, straight toward the back of the room where both the exit door and Grantaire’s table are located.That’s when the First Order troopers come in.





	Will you join the Resistance? (Who will be strong and stand with me?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chonaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chonaku/gifts).



> For Chonaku who asked for a Star Wars/Star Wars AU on Tumblr.
> 
> Guys, I had so many possibilities for this one, but then I chose a setting and it kept growing! It gained something like 1500 words when I started to correct and edit the Tumblr version to post it on AO3! 
> 
> This fic has been betaed by the lovely Sunlit_Stone, any mistake left is all mine!  
> All comments are always very welcome.

The bar is crowded and loud, and Grantaire is nursing his third Cardassian Sunrise of the evening while watching Joly and Bossuet dance with Musichetta when the man comes in. Human, about their age, maybe a bit younger, curly blond hair colored blue by the pulsing light, beautiful… and there is something fleeting in his face, in his way of standing, that makes Grantaire sit up and take notice, watch him as he slows down -he was running- and looks around himself with a tense expression, then starts to elbow his way across the dancefloor at a brisk pace, head low, straight toward the back of the room where both the exit door and Grantaire’s table are located.

That’s when the First Order troopers come in.

 

They don’t barge in with guns blazing: even after Councilman Lamarque, the First Order’s most vocal opponent, was outnumbered two weeks ago when the matter of the Order’s presence on Palis III was raised, their standing with the government doesn’t extend to that -yet. They are still making a show of being respectful of the planet’s laws... But he’s pretty sure it’s flimsy pretense at best, and that they wouldn’t hesitate to open fire in a crowed place if need be. They walk in confidently, three of them in full body armor, scanning the crowd, watchful and dangerous. The dancers closest to them notice and fall back instinctively, creating a space around them and the beginning of a rush. The young man is near now, and a big Trandoshan gyrating to the latest tech-K hit from Coruscant is unwittingly shielding him from view… but it won’t last and there is no way he can discretely slips through the door now…

“Dammit,” mumbles Grantaire when he realizes what he is about to do, and “Here goes nothing” as he catches the man’s arm, leans close and pitches his voice to be heard above the music. “Do they know what you look like?”

The man startles but calms down quickly, comes to a decision. His face is even more striking from so close, cast in moving shadows, and Grantaire heart lurches in his chest.

“Only vaguely and they didn’t have the time to scan me. I’m almost sure they didn’t see me come in, and they don’t actually have due cause to arrest me, but I’d rather not risk it..."

"Okay," says Grantaire, feeling a bit hysterical as he throws an arm on the stranger’s shoulders. "Okay. The jacket has to go. And if you’re not dancing you need a drink. We can’t do anything about the hair though… Come here…”

He wrestles the man out of his loud red and gold jacket, thrust his Cardassian Sunrise into his hand, grabs an empty cocktail glass from the table for himself, and put his hand on the man’s hair, bending their heads close as if they were intimates merely trying to have a conversation over the music…

From the corner of his eyes he can see the troopers walking along the bar to the stairs going up to the balcony… He can’t believe he is going to die like that, a fucking stupid stunt for a fucking handsome rebel… He holds on, says, “Hey, I’m R by the way,” to make it looks like they are actually talking rather than holding on to each other in a state of half-coherent terror -or at least Grantaire is-, and then, just as angelface is saying “I’m Enjolras, thank you for your-”… then the Stormtroopers walk out, just like that.

 

Grantaire sags a bit on the man’s -Enjolras?- shoulder before his self-consciousness makes itself known again above the fear and the relief. He commandeers his cocktail back and drowns half of it in one long gulp before thinking that his new friend may be in need of liquid comfort as well.

“Here,” he says, giving the glass back, and Enjolras’s eyebrows (which are perfectly shaped by the way) rise on his lofty brow (perfectly shaped as well, there seems to be a theme developing). For one second Grantaire is sure he will refuse and snub the offered drink, but he finally takes it, raises it seriously “to freedom” and drinks, not without making a face at the first taste. Grantaire finds it all exceedingly charming, which is at least as concerning as his newly found streak of activism.

At the end of the song, he uses the lull in the ambient noise to whisper:

“You should probably wait in here for a while. Or I can walk you out… They will be looking only for one, right?"

"Let’s get out of here then. I owe you a drink… Somewhere we can talk?”

This is a terrible idea, but Grantaire finds himself nodding, grabbing his bag and following the blond head toward the entrance. On the way he sends a short pulse to his friend telling them he is leaving so they won’t worry, and Musichetta sees him and gives him a congratulatory flick of her lekkus, wildly mistaking the reasons why Grantaire is heading out with an awesome young man.

 

The night is still young and the first and third moons can be seen above the towers, adding their purple glow to the lights of the streets. The district is lively, throngs of peoples out and about, talking, laughing. The Stormtroopers are nowhere to be seen and it almost feels like they were never there… A feeling that can’t be trusted, when the sweat is still cooling on Grantaire’s back, when Enjolras is strong and warm next to him. They walk shoulder to shoulder in silence, Enjolras leading and Grantaire following, until the crowd starts to clear then thins completely when they take the stairs, cross two footbridges and enter a much poorer district.

“Thank you. For your help. Not many people dare to stand against the First Order…"

"You’re welcome. But I didn’t? Stand, I mean. Well, I did, but I just took off your jacket and gave you my glass! It wasn’t a great feat of resistance."

"You are wrong," cuts in Enjolras with unsettling intensity. "You would have been in trouble had they found me. And even the small things matter... People staying put and saying nothing when they see something wrong because they are afraid is how the Order got its power in the first place. That’s how liberty is taken away, how freedom is taken away, until the people just keep their heads down and pray “not me next” to themselves…"

"Wow," says Grantaire. "I can see exactly why they would want to arrest you…”

And he does. It’s not just the words but the way they are told, the fervor that comes with them, the fire in his eyes. The First Order has an in with the government of Palis III, but Councilman Lamarque’s opposition to their presence does have a strong following among the population, and Enjolras is clearly one of the anti… But the Order has ships and weapons, and faceless soldiers… and they don’t ask for much as first. Rancors in nerf’s clothing… First it’s right to land and resupply (and pay for it of course!)… Then shares in some of the mining business and right to keep the security themselves around their warehouses in the spaceport area… then beyond…  And then, before you know it they are offering their “expertise” with a smugglers situation, or “helping” to contain a workers uprising on the fourth moon because someone contracted them to…

Only a blind man would believe they haven’t paid or bullied their way into their current standing… but what can a citizen do when the parliament won’t say a thing, when the Council has voted to allow it, against Lamarque’s fierce speech and almost a week of protests in the streets? Grantaire would bet his holographic easel that Enjolras was right in the heart of the protests… for the good it did.

“You can’t blame people for doing nothing you know… Resisting is all well and good, but ultimately it is a futile endeavor…  People break their back to earn a living, and you want them to risk their lives for a liberty they can barely taste anyway?"

"And yet you helped me."

"I suppose I did… But certainly not for liberty or because I believe in any of that Resistance nonsense! … I just… You looked interesting. I wanted to draw you."

Enjolras stops and stares at him as if the words didn’t really make sense.

"You… Really?"

"Don’t get me wrong, if you believe in things as simple as good and evil, then the First Order is certainly evil… But it’s not some protest on a backwater planet that will change anything about it. And most people are not interested in the grand scheme of things, you know? They will only act for pointless, selfish reasons."

"Like you did?"

"Yes, You could have been a murderer for all I knew, and yet I helped you just because I wanted to… Are you a murderer?"

Enjolras glares.

"I’m ready to kill to saves lives, to defend liberty. And you said it yourself, the First Order is dangerous, you must have known that if they were looking for me it meant I was doing something right."

"Even a broken chrono tells the right time once a day," answers Grantaire before he can helps himself.

"Are you mocking me?"

Enjolras’s face is thunderous, and Grantaire’s fingers itch for a pen.

"Probably. Or myself? I’m sorry if you thought I was rebel material, but the truth is I’m not a very serious person…"

For a second he thinks Enjolras will get angry, but the clouds lift from his face and he shrugs a bit, serious again, but not righteous.

"You’re right, you not what I thought you were, you are much stranger. But whatever your reason, you did help me… Though, if you don’t care about politics, maybe you’d rather not come with me all the way."

"You did promise me a drink, are you trying to go back on your words?"

Enjolras smiles a little at that, like a shared joke.

"I’m not. So be it. Come on, then."

"You can talk politics with me, and I can even answer you know. But be warned that I’m a cynic.”

 

It turns out they had almost reached their destination, a poorly lit sign saying “Le Musain”, tucked in a shabby back alley.

The place turns out to be a bar and their entrance is greeted with shouts and a few raised glasses from a rowdy group sitting at a table in the back: humans and not, of various genders, shapes and colors. Introductions are made and they all turn out to be friendly and highly appreciative of Grantaire coming to the rescue once the story get told, matter-of-factly by Enjolras, with plenty of artistic license by Grantaire. They call themselves the Amis and are all anti-First Order, convinced it’s only a matter of time before the rancor sheds his nerf hide and almost as full of fervor as Enjolras, who turns out to be their de-facto leader. Some of them are students, some of them are lawfully employed… and some of them maybe not, but Grantaire certainly doesn’t judge that kind of thing.

He likes them a lot is the truth of it, and not even because of the haze of drink that usually makes fast friends out of strangers. They take pains to include him in, and he spends almost an hour debating philosophy with a soft-spoken Caamasi who has an encyclopedic knowledge of fascism and the fall of the Old Republic before moving on to a discussion about the poetry of dissent with Jehan, a long-necked humanoid with a friendly smile whose specie he doesn’t know…

When Grantaire leaves at dawn, Enjolras shake his hand and tells him he will be welcome back anytime.

 

He tells himself he won’t go back, but then he does, one, two, three times, more, sitting in the back of spirited debates about politics, the Order’s racism’s impact on non-humans, Lamarque’s next move and whether or not the Resistance can be convinced to help Palis III when its own government seems happy to deal with the First Order… Each time, something quiet lights in Enjolras’s eyes when he sees him, even when Grantaire only draws and says nothing, or shoots down ideas.

 

And so he is there when, on the third week after that night in the club, they learn that Councilman Lamarque has been blastered down in front of his home with his younger daughter by “unknown assailants.”

But it doesn’t matter for long, because before the riots can even start, news that the Hosnian system has been wiped from the galactic map start to come in.


End file.
